


Âzyungel

by Fangirl_Forever



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-03 17:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_Forever/pseuds/Fangirl_Forever
Summary: Erebor has been reclaimed and Thorin and his nephews have survived the Battle of the Five Armies. Months have passed, and in those months Thorin has been healing from his injuries and working hard to restore Erebor and Dale, while also working to build stable, positive relations with their neighbors, the Men of Laketown and the Elves of Mirkwood. If that wasn't enough for him, he also has several problems arising that he has to deal with. Bilbo has spent the months since the battle helping in any way he can with the restoration and the negotiations between Erebore, Laketown, and Mirkwood, while also taking care of urgent business back at the Shire. He is also having to deal with his own problems. They are both trying to solve their problems by themselves, but they find out that it won't work and they need each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I got a Bagginshield request that I’ve actually seen done a lot, in various ways, so I wanted to try my hand at it. It’s an arranged marriage prompt, with my own take on it. The original prompt was “Erebor has been reclaimed but Gandalf thinks it’s necessary for Thorin to have someone by his side to help Erebor become stronger. He begrudgingly agrees but only if he can choose the hobbit, who doesn’t get a say in any of this.” I tried sticking to the prompt exactly as it was, but I couldn’t make it work so I tweaked it until I found something that felt right. I have no plan or idea of how many chapters this will be. I basically don't have it planned at all. I'm just writing and seeing where it takes me. This is my first Bagginshield fic so comments and opinions are very welcome. Rated G right now, but as the story progresses it may change to M. Chapters will be somewhat short, likely about 1500-2000 words each. Updates will, hopefully, be every month.
> 
> Tags/Title/Content are subject to change at any time.  
> Please point out any mistakes!

            Thorin stared up at Balin, confused and angry. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. He just couldn't. It wasn't possible. “They what?!” he said, struggling to remain calm.

            Balin sighed and shook his head. “Many members of the council think you should abdicate, or if you will not, should be overthrown,” he repeated, speaking slowly in his own attempt to remain calm. “Some think Fili should take your place as king, while others think someone not of your direct line should take over.”

            Thorin gripped the edge of his desk tight and he felt some satisfaction when the wood creaked. “And what is their reasoning behind this rebellion?” he asked through clenched teeth.

            Balin glanced down at Thorin's hands but wisely chose not to comment. “The gold madness. They fear you may succumb again, and if you did they fear you would not or could not snap out of it as you did before.” Thorin raised an eyebrow at him and he huffed. “Very well, there are those, only a few really, that simply wish to see someone else on the throne. They have a perfect opportunity to push their agenda with those who are loyal to our line pushing for Fili to take over. From what Nori tells me and what I have heard on my own, those who want someone not of your line on the throne are nobles from the Iron Hills who, most likely, want Dain as king. Of those, some of them truly are worried about the gold sickness and others are simply greed driven and want one of their own as king. Although why they think Dain will be on their side in this matter is beyond me. Dain has made it clear many times before that he has no interest in being king. The same could be said for those from Ered Luid and hail originally from Erebor., some are honestly worried about the gold sickness and others only want a young dwarf they think they can control on the throne.”

            Thorin nodded, seeming satisfied with the information. Inside however, his thoughts were racing. He had fought for, and very nearly died for, the mountain. He had led his people during their exile, doing everything he could to see them all fed and clothed while they searched for a new home. He had given up almost everything to get them back to their true home. Now, when he had thought things would settle inside the mountain, as much as things could settle with restorations underway and Dwarrow pouring in by the dozens every day to either return home or find a new one, he found out that things were not settling at all. He had nobles from both Ered Luin and the Iron Hills complaining everyday about the positions he had given those of common blood in his company, every Dwarf claiming that they could not serve in said positions simply because they were not of noble blood. It didn't matter that Thorin had made them nobles as soon as he had healed enough to have a council meeting. Those same nobles would also kick up a fuss every time he let go of, in their minds, too much gold. As if they could eat gold. As if Laketown had not been destroyed, many of its people lost, because of Thorin and his Company's actions. To Thorin, paying for food and making reparations to a people he had hurt tremendously was far more important than gold. To the nobles, it didn't matter so much apparently.

            All of that was just scrap metal compared to the number one complaint he had to put up with every hour of every day: one, Bilbo Baggins. Whether it was the whole issue with the Arkenstone or just because he was not a Dwarf, Thorin heard more complaints about him daily than about anything else. The main complaint was that he was still in the mountain at all, rather than having gone home or having been sent home. Thorin, for his part, had been so busy after being allowed out of the healer's tent that he had not spent any time with Bilbo. But the first thing he had done upon waking, after he got over his shock at being alive of course, was apologize to Bilbo again. And just as he had when he thought Thorin was going to die, Bilbo had forgiven him easily. And just like that, their friendship was renewed and they had carried on as if the Arkenstone and gold sickness had never happened at all. That was months ago and the most Thorin had seen of Bilbo since being allowed to return to being king had been the occasional glimpse as they happened to pass through the same parts of the mountain.

            Thorin shook his head to clear his thoughts and refocused himself on the situation at hand. “What do you suggest, Balin?” he asked his adviser, and oldest friend.

            Balin seemed shocked to have been asked, but quickly covered it by clearing his throat. “Well, for now it is all rumors of course. Rumors often die down when there is nothing to fuel them. You have been very generous with the gold and treasure in the mountain so far, clearly trying to make up for the gold sickness and prove you are above it. I think that's a good start. Keep on that track and I'll have Nori, and the rest of the company, keep an ear out for any sign there might be trouble. In the meantime, we can work on coming up with plans and contingencies in case the rumors become more than just rumors. We could also consider replacing certain council members if they start to cause trouble. That is all we really can do. As I'm sure you're aware, there is no guarantee that the sickness will not return, and if it did you might not get over it like you did last time,” Balin reminded him gently.

            Thorin nodded. “I know. They are right to worry. I have been thinking about just that situation myself. Coming up with my own contingencies should I fall again. Trying to think of ways to keep it from happening again and ways to bring me back from it should it happen again.”

            Balin smiled, proud. “You haven't forgotten everything I taught you. What have you come up with so far?”

            “Nothing, except to keep myself away from the gold completely. I do not go near the treasure rooms at all now.”

            “That's a good idea, lad, but it wouldn't hurt to have more plans, just in case. Do you remember what brought you back from it last time?”

            Thorin unexpectedly felt himself blushing. Thinking back to that moment, when he was so far gone that not even his own kin could reach him, made him feel horrible and made him want to shave off his beard completely in shame. But remembering that it was Bilbo's voice, Bilbo's face, that brought him back made him feel things he wasn't ready to think about yet. If Balin noticed his blush, he didn't say, but his eye's gleamed with amusement. Thorin cleared his throat before answering him. “Bil- Master Baggins. It was Master Baggins that brought me back from that dark place,” he said, his normally confident voice shaking. Balin nodded in understanding and let the matter drop.

            “Well, we can talk about that another time. Now though, I have documents that need your signature,” Balin said, stepping up to the desk and handing Thorin a large stack of parchments and scrolls. Thorin scowled at the stack, causing Balin to chuckle, before they both set to revising and signing said documents.

            They had only been working an hour when there was a hesitant knock on the door to Thorin's study. They looked at each other questioningly before Thorin called out, “Enter.”

            The door opened slowly and both Balin and Thorin were shocked and confused when Bilbo stepped into the room, his head down and his hands wringing together nervously in front of him. Balin and Thorin both stood up, growing concerned. It wasn't like Bilbo to act nervous or anxious like that. Bilbo opened and closed his mouth several times, obviously trying and failing to come up with something to say. After several long moments of this, Balin stepped in to save him.

            “Good Evening, Master Baggins,” he said, nonchalantly moving to the Hobbit's side so he could lead him further into the room. “We were just talking about you,” he added cheerfully, earning a glare from Thorin.

            Bilbo tried to smile, but it came off as a grimace instead. He looked anywhere but at Thorin, fueling Thorin's concern further. “I don't know if I should be concerned or not, and how many times must I tell you to call me 'Bilbo', Master Balin?”

            Balin laughed and replied, “As many times as I must tell you that it is just 'Balin', it seems, Master Baggins.” Bilbo smiled then, a real smile this time. Thorin took that as his opportunity to speak up.

            “Good evening, Master Baggins,” he said, bowing formally. Bilbo started and returned the bow.

            “Good Evening, Your Majesty.”

            “What brings you to my quarters? Not that I'm not happy to see you, I mean, not happy, well I am happy but,” Thorin promptly started stammering and falling over his words in his haste. He felt his face flush with embarrassment, but when Bilbo smiled again, he decided he didn't mind the feeling so much. Thankfully though, Balin came to his rescue, offering the Hobbit tea and a chair before the hearth, both of which Bilbo politely declined. And so, having found his voice, Bilbo stated his reason for the visit.

           “I am leaving tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

            “Leaving?!” Thorin repeated, sputtering. He hurried around the desk to stand in front of Bilbo, not caring that he bumped into it several times in his haste. Bilbo still refused to meet his eyes, even when Thorin was just two feet in front of him. “You are . . . leaving?” he asked, hoping he heard wrong the first time.

            Bilbo pursed his lips and nodded silently. Thorin felt his heart clench in his chest and he actually took a step backwards before he caught himself. He tried to say something, to ask why and when, to ask him to stay, to live in and make Erebor his home. But nothing came out of his mouth, and to his horror he stood there gaping like a fish. And then, finally, Bilbo lifted his head up to meet his gaze. What Thorin saw there almost made him drop to his knees. Bilbo had been crying. His eyes were red, his cheeks were puffy, and his nose was runny. Thorin lifted a hand and, forgetting about propriety, reached out to touch Bilbo's cheek.

            His skin was warm, and so soft. Thorin gently rubbed his thumb across the faint tear tracks marring his face. Bilbo and Thorin stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving or speaking, until Balin pointedly cleared his throat. Brought back to reality, Thorin dropped his hand and backed up. Bilbo sniffed and rubbed his sleeve across his cheek.

            “Gloin and Bombur have offered to let me travel with them on their trip to get their families. They will be traveling by the Shire, as you know, so it will be easy enough for me to get back ho- home,” Bilbo stumbled over the last word and swallowed heavily.

            Balin nodded, as if that made perfect sense and nothing was wrong. “That's a good plan, lad. But why are you heading home? Just last month you told me you had written letters to your Thain and relatives in regard to having some of your more important possessions sent here with one of the caravans and having your smial given to one of your cousins, Drogo I believe. Why the change of heart?”

            Thorin's mind was whirling so fast at that news, that Bilbo had actually been making plans to make Erebor his home, that he almost missed Bilbo's next words.

            “Well, it's just that, well, I've done some thinking and I realized that I'm probably better off going back to where I belong. With my garden, and my, my hills and sunshine. I don't belong in a mountain. I see that now. I don't belong here,” Bilbo explained, his voice getting softer and softer until he was whispering at the end.

            Thorin knew in his heart that the Bilbo he knew, the one who stood over him and defended him from Azog, the one that defied him and betrayed him to save him and his kin, would not think like that. He knew something else happened that Bilbo was not saying. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “What was said to you?” Both Balin and Bilbo looked at him, Balin with growing apprehension and Bilbo with shock.

            Bilbo opened his mouth, probably to deny Thorin's suspicions, but Thorin held up a hand to stop him. “That is the Bilbo we met in Bag End talking. That is not the Bilbo we know now. Something has happened, or someone, I suspect. I want to know what was said, and by whom. And if you choose not to tell me, I will set Nori and Dwalin to find out. And they will, though it may take time. I would prefer to hear it from you what has happened to make you feel as if you don't belong here.”

            Bilbo glared at him, and inside Thorin rejoiced that his Bilbo is still in there somewhere, not completely killed by whatever harsh words thrown at him. Thorin stepped forward, until he was only inches away from Bilbo. “Bilbo, Master Baggins. You are one of the company. Without you, our quest would have failed. You have saved us all several times. You have earned your right to live here many times over. Dwarf or not. Indeed, there is not a single Dwarf in this mountain who has done more than you have for this mountain. You deserve to be here more than anyone else. Now please, tell me who has given such offense to you. You are entitled to respect from every Dwarf in Erebor, not only for helping reclaim it and being a part of the Company, but also because I consider you a friend and a valued ally. I must know who it was.”

            Something in his voice or his eyes must have reached Bilbo, because a second later Bilbo's eyes filled with tears. He shakily brushed the tears away before they could fall and then whispered several names, too fast for Thorin to catch but he saw Balin writing it all down out of the corner of his eye. Satisfied that the issue would be handled immediately, Thorin gently took Bilbo's arms and led him to the comfier chair in front of the fire. Bilbo followed mechanically, still struggling not to cry, as Thorin sat him down in the chair and handed him a cup of hot tea. It took several minutes, but Bilbo finally finished his tea and fell asleep in the chair, exhausted. Thorin beckoned Balin out of the study into the adjoining room that was the bedroom.

            As soon as the door is shut behind him, Thorin rounded on Balin. “I want these Dwarrow brought found and arrested immediately. I want Dwalin here to help us question them. His ability to intimidate others might be useful. I want Nori to focus on this and nothing else until we have answers. I won't stand for anyone making Bil- Master Baggins feel as if he shouldn't be here. This is treason against the crown, as far as I'm concerned.”

            Balin nodded his agreement and tucked the paper he had written the names on into his pocket for safe keeping. “We won't let them get away with this Thorin. Many Dwarrow like Master Baggins and consider him a hero.”

            Thorin snorted. “It only takes a little wind to turn the tide, Balin. We cannot allow this to fester and grow into something worse than just hateful words and rumors. I will do whatever I must to make Master Baggins feel safe here, in his new home. For now, though, you had best get to bed. You're not as young as you once were, gamil bâhûn . These late nights and early mornings hit you harder than they do me,” he teased, smiling.

            Balin took it with the same good nature he took everything else as he left, only stopping to throw a parting comment about not being too old to turn Thorin over his knee like a Dwarfling of twenty over his shoulder as he left. As soon as the door shut behind him, Thorin hurried back into his study, feeling anxious over leaving Bilbo alone.

            He breathed a sigh of relief when he found Bilbo still asleep in his armchair. Thorin smiled at the sight, wishing he had the skill to draw so he could capture the moment for all time. He carefully took the empty tea cup from Bilbo's hands and set it back on the tray next to the tea pot. Then, he dragged a thick fur off the back of the other chair and draped it over Bilbo. Even with the fire going, it sometimes got chilly at night. And if it felt chilly to him, a hardy Dwarf who was used to such temperatures in the mountain, he couldn't imagine how it would feel to a Hobbit who was used to a much different climate. Thorin had the fleeting thought that maybe Bilbo really would be better off back in the Shire, with its warm weather and sunshine and grass. But he banished the thought from his head as quickly as it came to him. If Bilbo did not truly want to stay, he would have left already, he told himself.

            Using that thought to comfort himself, Thorin sat back down at his desk and started the task of signing the several dozen documents Balin had left for him. He sighed, wanting to throw everything into the fire and just forget about it. But he set to it anyway, determined to get his work caught up. And he found, throughout the night, that looking up and seeing Bilbo by the fire was enough to calm and uplift him as he worked. It made the hours pass by quickly and before he knew it, he was signing the last scroll. According to his inner sense of time, something all Dwarrow were gifted with from centuries of living under mountains, it was just a couple hours after midnight. Glad that he would be able to get at least a few hours sleep, Thorin started for his bedroom.

            Only to stop halfway to the door, realizing that he couldn't leave Bilbo alone in the study. But he couldn't move him either, he didn't want to chance waking the Hobbit when he obviously needed the rest. He made a split second decision and hurried into his bathroom to wash up and change. Then, he dipped into his bedroom to grab a fur for himself off the bed before he settled himself across from Bilbo in the second chair. He positioned himself so that if he were to wake, the first thing he would see would be Bilbo's face. And then he was falling asleep, much easier than he ever had since he woke up in the healer's tent all those months ago, with a small smile on his face, content for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gamil bâhûn – old friend  
> Credit for all Khuzdul to the Dwarven Scholar.


	3. Chapter 3

            When Bilbo woke, it was with much confusion, and a little fear, for he was not in the guest rooms he been staying in since the Company had moved back into the mountain after the battle. But then there was a sense of safety and contentment that came from seeing Thorin sitting across from him in front of the still smoldering fire. His fingers itched to straighten Thorin's hair where it was falling into his face, but doing so would mean Bilbo would have to come out from under his own fur and he simply refused to give up the warmth it provided right then. He settled for sighing and staring at Thorin instead as he relaxed in the chair, comfortable and oh so warm for once. In truth, the nights were colder than he was used to, even with the fires going in his set of rooms but he had not wanted to ask for more furs or blankets. He was already asking for too much by wanting to live in Erebor, as many Dwarrow felt the need to remind him on a daily basis.

            He had put up with months of the verbal abuse, the snide comments and whispers behind his back. Dwarrow blatantly ignoring him or being outright cruel to him. He had put up with some bullying and rumors back in Hobbiton, but these were Dwarrows. They did everything to the extreme and were generally a rougher, rowdier people than Hobbits were. It was no wonder that they didn't hide their displeasure behind idle gossip and the occasional passive aggressive comment. At first, Bilbo had been fine. There were many more Dwarrow that seemed to enjoy his company and praised him as a hero for helping to restore their home and rescue their king. The good outweighed the bad. But as the weeks passed, those that disliked, and outright hated him, had only grown braver and bolder in showing how they really felt. Of course, they were all careful to make sure no one ever saw or heard anything.

            Making sure to pass him when he was walking the halls, just waiting to see if he was alone or not. Following him to wait for him to be alone. Cornering him in the library. That was when Bilbo had started making sure he was never alone. But that proved to be fruitless as the Dwarrow simply accepted it as a new challenge. They started following him when he went to Dale, where they knew he would be mostly alone, or surrounded by big people who didn't pay attention to Hobbits or Dwarrow. Really, it was the lengths they were going to get to him that scared Bilbo. He was coming to his wits end with all the stalking and insults, but then one of them had made an outright threat. That had been the end of his rope. He could put up with a lot, but feeling unsafe in a place he wanted to make his home he couldn't and wouldn't abide.

            But he couldn't tell Thorin about this, nor anyone else in the company. They were all so busy now with restoring and running Erebor, especially Thorin. Bilbo saw no reason to worry them with his problems. So that was when he had decided to leave. And because he knew Thorin and the Company would try to stop him, he had talked to Gloin first, as he knew Gloin and Bombur would have to return to Ered Luin soon for their families, to make sure he would not be traveling alone. Just his luck, that they had been planning on leaving within the week. He had already packed and written goodbye letters for everyone. But he couldn't bring himself to leave a letter for Thorin. He felt Thorin deserved better. Which led to him gathering up his courage, what he had left of it, and going to Thorin's rooms the night before he was supposed to leave to say goodbye.

            He had not counted on Thorin being able to see something was wrong. He had fooled everyone else in the company, made them think he was just going back to get his things. But he couldn't lie to Thorin, and Thorin had seen right through his attempt to act as if nothing wrong. Bilbo groaned and buried his face in the fur. Now he would have Thorin, the king, coming to his rescue and taking time away from his duties as king to take care of Bilbo's problem. That was sure to make things worse.

            Bilbo winced at his thoughts. He couldn't let that happen. He shouldn't have broken down like he had, he shouldn't have told Thorin who had been harassing him, and he shouldn't have stayed the night. Feeling desperate, he stood up and threw the fur into the now empty chair. He had to get out of there before Thorin woke up. He couldn't face him after last night. He had already lost too much respect with . . . certain Dwarrow in the mountain. He couldn't afford to lose anymore. Not that they had any respect for him to begin with, really.

            Bilbo took one last look at Thorin, still slumped in his chair, just to give him something to remember after he left. Acting on an impulse, he reached out to tuck the hair that was falling into Thorin's face behind his ear. He knew Dwarrow were very concerned and prickly about who could and couldn't touch their hair and beards. He knew Thorin would probably be upset if he found out Bilbo had touched his hair without permission. But he couldn't stop himself. His breath caught in his throat when he finally, finally, touched Thorin's hair.

            It was soft, which was surprising. Thorin had started oiling and caring for it properly, so Bilbo shouldn't have been surprised. But he was anyway. It was like wool, he supposed. Coarse and rough when not cared for, but with proper maintenance it would make the most wonderful wool. Sighing, Bilbo forced his thoughts away from what could be made from Thorin's hair, and instead took a moment to admire the contrast between the dark locks and his own skin. He wasn't pale by any means, years of living in and gardening in Hobbiton and then the months spent outside on the quest had given him an even tan, but compared to Thorin's dark hair, which was a compelling mix of blacks and browns with the occasional gray or silver mixed in, his skin looked like it had never seen the sun.

            Bilbo reverently tucked the hair behind Thorin's ear, taking another moment just to feel the skin on his ear. Suddenly, Thorin shifted, mumbling something in Khudzul in his sleep. Bilbo jerked his hand back and leapt backwards. He almost tripped over the edge of the rug but managed to catch himself before he hit the floor. After he had his balance back, he sprinted for the door and was gone. Just seconds after the door shut behind him, Thorin opened his eyes. It took him a moment to remember why he was in his study but when he did, he shot up out of his chair.

            The fur fell to the floor and tangled around his feet when he tried to take a step. Thorin had a second to realize his feet were trapped before he was falling face first on to the floor. Thorin hit the floor hard, but he managed to save his face by hitting the floor with his hands first. He cursed under his breath as he freed his feet and then he hurried on to his feet. He didn't bother changing out of his sleep clothes, choosing instead to put on the thick robe Bilbo had gifted him weeks ago, for no apparent reason, before he raced out of his rooms and through the halls to Bilbo's rooms.

            It was still early in the morning, so the halls were mostly empty, except for guards and those whose jobs or positions required them to be up early. Those he encountered seemed to catch on to the fact that he was in a hurry because they all bowed and offered a quick “good morning” as he passed but didn't try to stop him for conversation as they normally might have. And if he happened to catch a few of the guards chuckling or smiling, he ignored it. Let them think what they would. He had more important things to do. Like stopping a certain Hobbit from running away and leaving him forever.

            Finally, after several minutes of sprinting, Thorin reached Bilbo's rooms. He had to take a moment to lean against the wall and catch his breath, muttering to himself about getting back into shape. Once he felt presentable, as presentable as he could be in a bathrobe, he let himself into Bilbo's rooms. He didn't see the point in knocking when he had a feeling that Bilbo would not answer anyway. And upon seeing what was on the other side of the door, he was glad he had just barged in.

            Bilbo froze when the door to what was his living room opened. He was terrified it might have been one of his stalkers, and breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out to be Thorin on the other side. He was so relieved that he didn't even berate the Dwarf for barging into his rooms without permission. But then he remembered what he had been about to do and discreetly tried to shut the door some so he could take off his pack without Thorin noticing. But when he started to shut the door, Thorin simply set his weight in front of the door and that was that. The door wasn't going to move. They stared at each other again, each one waiting to see which would give in first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we are back on track! I decided to post the next two chapters early so that what I had posted on Tumblr would match what I've posted here. Now that it's caught up, chapter updates will resume monthly, starting with chapter 4 being posted next week. Sorry for any confusion!


	4. Chapter 4

            Finally, after two minutes that felt like two lifetimes, Bilbo couldn't take it any longer. He licked his lips and said the first thing that came to his mind. “I'm sorry.”

            Thorin blinked, confused. “For what?”

            Bilbo closed his eyes. “I shouldn't have let you see me like that last night. And I shouldn't have stayed the night in your . . . your rooms, no matter how unintentional it was. It was . . . improper and unseemly and I apologize for whatever repercussions this might have should anyone have seen me entering or leaving your rooms.”

            “Repercussions?” Thorin repeated, growing more confused by the second.

            Bilbo scowled at him and tugged on the door handle. “Yes, repercussions. Now please, Gloin said he's planning to leave when dawn breaks and I do not need to be late.”

            Thorin's confused expression changed to an angry glare in an instant at the mention of Bilbo leaving. “You aren't leaving,” he said simply.

            Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Excuse you, Your Highness, but I don't think you get a say in this. I'm going home. Back to the . . .  to the shire,” his voice broke then and he ducked his head. Thorin cursed and stepped forward, forcing Bilbo to step backwards, and he shut the door behind him. 

            “If that was what you truly wanted, I would not stop you. But I know you do not want to go. If you did, you would have left with the wizard months ago after it was certain that I would not succumb to my wounds. You do not want to go, and I won't let you go until you do. So long as you wish to remain here, I will make sure you have a place here, Master Baggins.”

            Bilbo swallowed and turned away from Thorin. When Thorin reached for his pack, tugging gently on it, Bilbo let it fall off his shoulders. He heard Thorin set it on the floor and then he heard Thorin rebuilding the fire that he had put out in the hearth. Once the fire was roaring again, Thorin turned back to Bilbo and cautiously, as you might with a wild animal, approached him. Bilbo let himself be led to the armchair he kept in front of the fire, the only piece of furniture that had not been in the room when he had moved in, which he had specifically requested when he was given the rooms. And just like the night before, mere hours ago when he had gone to say goodbye, Thorin made him a cup of tea to soothe him.

            Bilbo took the cup with trembling fingers and brought it up to his mouth without waiting for it to cool. He hissed when it burned his tongue but kept drinking anyway so that he wouldn't be expected to speak yet. He wasn't paying attention to anything else, so he didn't see Thorin make his way over to the small desk Bilbo had set up in the corner of the room. If he had, he might have been able to stop Thorin from seeing the parchment he had left unfolded and open on the desk. It wasn't until Thorin swore and picked up the parchment that Bilbo realized his mistake.

            Bilbo dropped the cup, spilling tea onto the rug, and hurried over to the desk. He reached out his hands, intending to take the parchment back but Thorin easily held it out of his reach, twisting and turning to thwart Bilbo's attempts to grab it from his hands. “Thorin, that's private! You have no right going through my things, now kindly return it to me please!”

            Thorin dropped the note as if it had burned him, his blue eyes blazing with anger as he stared down at Bilbo in horror. “Who has threatened you?” he asked through clenched teeth. Bilbo mutely shook his head and picked up the parchment from the floor. Thorin grabbed Bilbo's arms, sorely tempted to shake some sense into him. “You will tell me now, Bilbo, or I will find out another way, and the longer it takes me to find out who dared to threaten you the angrier I will become.”

            Bilbo's eyes widened and he started to shake with fear. Feeling Bilbo's body shiver shocked Thorin, and he immediately released the Hobbit, swearing again in his native tongue. “Bilbo, you do not have to fear me! I am not angry at you, I am angry at these . . . these _shaikmashâz_ who would dare threaten you and I will have their beards, nay their heads, for this! Why do you continue to protect them? Why didn't you come to me immediately? Did you not think I would help you, protect you?” Thorin demanded, raking his hands through his hair.

            Bilbo clenched his fist, the threatening note forgotten, and he stepped forward, glaring at Thorin. “And that is exactly the problem! You are a king, do you think it will make these Dwarrow accept me if you are wasting time handling my problems, problems I should be handling on my own? You think it will win either of us any favor or respect from those that doubt and despise us both if you are dropping everything to come to my rescue? Because, I do not think it will help at all, Master Oakenshield!”

            Thorin's anger slowly dripped away as realization dawned. “You think that asking for my help would make you look weak?' he said quietly, needing clarification.

            Bilbo nodded, his mouth closed so tightly his lips were turning white. He dropped his head, all the fire abandoning him again. When he spoke again, it was with a resigned and disappointed voice. “It will, Thor- Your Majesty. If there's anything I've learned since you and your lot showed up on my door, it's that you all respect strength. No one will respect me if I am constantly needing to be saved and running to you crying every time someone says something nasty to or about me.”

            “Bilbo, this has gone far beyond nasty words. This is a serious matter. You have been threatened. You are clearly outnumbered. You are at a disadvantage. No one, not even a Dwarf, would begrudge you for seeking help, especially not when your safety is at risk now. And any who would are without honor themselves and their opinions do not matter.”

            Bilbo sniffed delicately. He had not raised his head, still staring at the floor. Thorin ached to reach out and touch his hair, to touch his cheek again, to raise his head so that they were looking at each other again. But then Bilbo was turning away from him, letting the parchment fall to the floor again. He stepped around Thorin and picked up his pack. Thorin didn't move as Bilbo slid his arms through the straps and settled the pack on his back. He didn't speak as Bilbo opened the door. And then Bilbo was gone, without a word. Not even a goodbye.

            As soon as the door was shut, Thorin whirled around and yanked it open, breaking into a run as soon as he stepped into the hallway. He charged through the halls, taking the route he thought Bilbo would take, but Bilbo was either far faster than Thorin had realized or he had taken a different way through the mountain. Either way, Thorin saw hide nor hair of his Hobbit as he ran. While it was still early, the halls were more crowded than they had been when he had hurried to Bilbo's room. Once he reached the more public areas, places where many different Dwarrow of all kinds mingled, he found himself having to slow down so as not to knock into anyone on accident. He attracted many looks, as he was still in his sleep clothes. If that wasn't strange enough, it also wasn't like him to run through the mountain like a herd of oliphaunts.

            Thorin made it to the front gates, which were already open, just as dawn was breaking across the sky. He skidded to a halt just outside the gates and praised Mahal when he saw Gloin's caravan just ten yards away. He couldn't see Bilbo in the crowd of Dwarrow, but he could see Gloin's and Bombur’s fiery red hair and made straight for them, assuming that Bilbo would be with his friends. As he approached the crowd, it slowly quieted and parted, each Dwarf staring at him in shock and surprise even as they stepped aside to let him pass. And then, finally, he could see Bilbo, and he felt heart clench in his chest, again.

            In the dawn light, Bilbo's honey kissed hair shined like gold, each curl illuminated vibrantly. When Bilbo turned to face him, the sun seemed to kiss his skin, which had tanned slightly during and after the quest, and it turned it to bronze. His eyes, already a beautiful hazel, blazed with something Thorin couldn't, no, wouldn't identify, when he spotted Thorin coming for him. And then those eyes softened with amusement and dropped down to eye Thorin's clothes. Thorin took a moment to really look at himself and cringed. The rumor mill would be kept busy for months with the scene he was making. But, for once he found he didn't care.

            He didn't care that his hair was a bushy mess, that made him resemble the sheep herding dogs he had scene Men use. He didn't care that he was being seen in his sleep clothes, although now that he realized it, it was still too early and chilly to be outside without a cover of some kind. All he cared about was his Hobbit, who was chuckling behind his hand now. Thorin stepped forward confidently, ignoring the whispers surrounding him. When he reached Gloin, Bombur, and Bilbo, he nodded in greeting at Gloin and Bombur, who cautiously nodded back, before he turned his attention back to Bilbo. Bilbo and Thorin stared at each other without speaking, each trying to stare the other down. This went on for several moments, until most of the other Dwarrow were fidgeting, uncomfortable with the tense situation. Finally, Gloin stepped in to end the standoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shaikmashâz-rats  
> Credits for Khuzdul to the Dwarven Scholar.


	5. Chapter 5

            "Ah, Thorin, laddie, not that I'm not right pleased to see ya', but what are you doing here, this early and with barely a stitch on?" Gloin asked, deftly stepping between Thorin and Bilbo to cut off their eye contact. He glanced around at the crowd circling them and sighed. Raising his voice, he commanded, "Right, get back to work! There's plenty that needs doing before we set off, and I mean to set off before the moon has disappeared from the sky!" That broke up the crowd instantly, each Dwarf scurrying back to finish whatever they had been set to do before the caravan started off.

            Thorin smiled pleasantly at his old friend, putting on a façade to hide how roiled up inside he was. "Gloin, _birashagimi_. I did not mean to cause such a scene. I overslept, but I didn't want to miss my chance to say goodbye to my old friends. And to my dear friend," he added, tilting his head to look at Bilbo again.

            Gloin nodded, frowning. "Aye, if you say so, lad. Well, you just caught us, but you've only got a few minutes to say your goodbyes. I'll leave you to it, then." Gloin bowed his head to Thorin respectfully before he and Bombur left them alone.

            Thorin murmured, "Thank you, friends," before he moved forward, deliberately driving Bilbo backwards away from the caravan. Once they were several yards away, he dropped his smile. "Bilbo, I'm begging you. Please, do not leave us," he whispered, the unspoken "don't leave me" burning on his tongue.

            Bilbo sighed and shook his head. "Thorin, I . . . I . . . "

            "I will take care of your . . . problem, I swear it. These Dwarrow won't bother you again, and I'll make sure no one else does either. I would have Erebor be your home, and I would have you feel safe within it. Just, please give me that chance," Thorin pleaded, staring down at Bilbo desperately.

            Bilbo sighed again, his body slumping in defeat. "Very well. I have to leave, according to the letters I've received from the Shire, I've a whole mess of business to sort out. But, after that, I will return. I make no promises that I will stay permanently. But I will come back. I swear it," Bilbo repeated Thorin's words softly.

            Thorin sagged and swayed on his feet, both from relief and from the cold that was finally starting to make itself known to his body. Bilbo clucked his tongue and turned Thorin around, shoving him back towards the caravan. "Back inside with you, you great noble lump, before you catch cold," he muttered firmly, but fondly. Thorin grinned despite himself, pleased to see some fire back in his Hobbit.

            "Dwarves do not catch cold so easily, Master Hobbit. But I thank you for your concern," Thorin said, his voice rumbling low with his laughter.

            "Oy, your kingliness, we need to be setting out now. Could you please get your arse back into the mountain, before the whole mountain is awake and clamoring to see you in your smalls?" Gloin appeared at his shoulder and gave him a shove, much stronger than Bilbo's had been. Still grinning, Thorin hastily said his goodbyes to Gloin, Bombur, and the caravan and then he was standing alone, watching them depart. He watched them until they disappeared into Dale before he finally turned back to the mountain.

            He shouldn't have been surprised to see the gates crowded with Dwarrow, all of them trying to get a good look at him, but he was anyway. He tried to glare at the crowd, but he was still feeling giddy and relieved over Bilbo's promise to return and his lips kept twitching, wanting to smile. He straightened up and ran his hand over his hair to tame it somewhat, before he made his way back to the gate. He spotted Balin at the front, looking as if he couldn't decide whether to be exasperated or amused, and as expected, he could see the rest of the Company scattered throughout the crowd. Each of his friends were grinning, even Dwalin, clearly enjoying the situation. Thorin groaned internally, knowing that he would be talked about for months, if not years. The Company would never let him live this down.

            As he neared the crowd, the whispers slowly quieted until all was silent. Thorin took a moment to look at the crowd, noting with satisfaction that there were several Dwarrow who cringed and dropped their eyes when he met their gaze. His friends on the other hand each grinned, unrepentant. Bofur even shot him a thumbs up. Thorin sighed and shook his head. At least he could intimidate some of them.

            When he reached Balin, his friend had finally given in and was smiling and chuckling. Thorin tried to glare at him, but it didn't scare Balin the way it did other Dwarrow. Sighing, Thorin gave up and allowed himself to return Balin's smile with a small one of his own. He clapped his old friend on the shoulder before he raised his hand up. Instantly, the crowd froze and all eyes were once again trained on him. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure you have all seen enough to keep you entertained for many months. I would greatly appreciate it if you would all go back inside and return to whatever duties you have now, and allow me to get to my rooms so that I may prepare for the day."

            While it was worded as a request, his tone of voice made it a command. The crowd quickly retreated inside and the Dwarrow all dispersed in a hurry, once again whispering. After a couple minutes, the only ones standing at the gate were Thorin and the company. Thorin deliberately avoided looking at any of them as he headed inside the mountain, Balin, Dwalin, and Fili and Kili falling in close behind him and the rest of the company following. He expected the Company to split up, as each member except for Balin had other duties and jobs. So he was surprised when it wasn't just himself and Balin entering his rooms, but the Company as well.

            He scowled at each member in turn, but not one stopped grinning or turned away. "Don't you all have jobs to do," he grumbled.

            "We're all important people now, we are. We all got people we can order to do our work for us when we need it, and I'd say this is was a perfect reason to take the morning off. Wouldn't want to miss out on seeing our glorious ruler parading about the mountain in his underwear, would we?" Bofur said cheerfully. The rest of the Company agreed, either with a chuckle, or an "aye". Or, in his nephews' case, loud laughter. Thorin cursed as he entered his bathroom. He quickly bathed and then brushed and braided his hair before he dressed in his royal garb, cursing at all the cumbersome layers he had to wear. Putting the crown on always brought up certain memories that he would rather stay gone, but today his concern over Bilbo overrode any other thoughts in his head. He glanced at himself in the mirror a last time before leaving the bathroom.

            When he entered the common area, the Company was still gathered around the fireplace. Bofur had pulled out his pipe and was chuckling so hard at something Bifur must have said that he was having trouble lighting it. Bifur was sitting in front of the fireplace with a plate in his lap, having his breakfast. Dwalin and Balin were standing off to the side with mugs of what he assumed was ale, discussing something between them quietly. Oin was sitting next to Bifur in front of the fireplace, talking very loudly about how he didn't need certain Dwarf kings acting like Dwarflings and causing scandals that pulled him away from the infirmary. Kili and Fili were lounging on the rug in front of the hearth, arguing about something that Thorin probably didn't want to know about. The Ri brothers had picked a corner of the room for themselves, Ori had pulled up a chair in the corner of the room so he could read, while Dori was embroidering a tunic and Nori was sharpening one of his many daggers.

            Looking around at each of his friends, Thorin felt his chest tighten. He had never noticed before how well Bilbo fit in with them all, but now without him his room felt empty. Thorin took a moment to think about how it was Bilbo's absence, and not the absence of one of his oldest friends and cousin Gloin and his new friend Bombur, that saddened him. Then, he decided it was something he didn't want to think about. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and the room instantly went quiet again. Even Bofur stopped laughing, placing his pipe stem in his mouth finally.

            "Balin, would you make the announcement that I will not be holding council today?" Balin nodded his assent and left the room to do as ordered. "I want all our focus on making Erebor safe for Bilbo's return. Nori, do you have any information for me on that?"

            Nori put his dagger away, hiding it somewhere on his person. "I've already had my informants look into the names you gave me." Thorin blinked, surprised, and Nori chuckled humorlessly. "I'm very good at my job, Your Highness, and since it involves our resident Hobbit, I too consider it top priority. I've got information on all the names Bilbo listed. How he got the names is beyond me, but knowing our burglar it will probably be quite the story. Valgard, son of Valgra, Hreida, daughter of Frida, Ragnfast, son of Ragnar, Astorr, son of Storrin, Gest, daughter of Gast, and Svein, son of Svain. None of them are related, either by blood or marriage, but all of them hail from the Iron Hills. All nobles, but no royal blood in them. From what we've gathered so far, none of them were friendly or knew each other well before coming here, but their shared dislike of you brought them together. Then, for whatever reason, they forgot about their dislike of you in favor of hating Bilbo. Still haven't found any particular reason for their hatred, but it could just be that they don't like anyone who's not a Dwarf. Add in that Bilbo has been accepted into the mountain as one of us, by the king they dislike no less, and it's not impossible to think that helped feed their hatred."

            Thorin nodded. "Are they loyal to Dain? Will they be leaving with him to return to the Iron Hills?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the next several chapters will focus strictly on Thorin, who will be learning new things about himself and struggling to deal with that. And then we'll get to see more of Bilbo! I hope I wrote the Company right, we will be seeing more of them later on. And btw, I hate trying to figure out where best to end a chapter -.-  
> Comments and opinions are appreciated!!
> 
> Birashagimi - I'm sorry. 
> 
> Original Dwarf names found at fantasynamegenerators.com


	6. Chapter 6

Nori shook his head. “They're all making plans to stay. I figure they think they can get rich or move up in the world by staying, as so many other nobles from the Iron Hills are doing. They probably tried already, when they first got here, and were either turned down for whatever position or treasure they asked for, or just weren't satisfied with what they were given. That would explain their dislike of you.”

Thorin frowned. “If they had sought seats on the council, surely I would know their names and faces?”

Oin snorted. “Thorin, lad, nobody wanted to tell you this, but you've been so busy lately that Balin, Gloin, and Dori have been handling as much work as they can get away with without you catching on. Including handling all the stuffy nobles who've come to Erebor sniffing around for seats on the council.”

Thorin's head swiveled around to look at Dori, who was purposefully keeping his gaze on his stitching to avoid Thorin's gaze. “Why wouldn't you tell me?”

Without looking up from his stitching, Dori said, “Because you think you have to take the whole mountain on your shoulders by yourself. If we had told you, you would have butted in, tried to stop us, and gave yourself more work to do, as if you aren't already doing enough. It's our jobs to advise you and help you, and we can't do that if you won't let us.” When Thorin opened his mouth to respond, Dori held up a hand to silence him. “You know I'm right, Thorin.” Briefly Thorin wondered when Dori had become so comfortable around him to drop his title, and why he had never noticed it before. “If you trust us to be your advisers, then you have to trust us to take some of the workload off you. It's what we're here for. Let us do our jobs.”

Deciding that he had said enough, Dori bent his head back to his stitching. Thorin simply nodded and turned his attention back to Nori. “So they came here looking for a seat on the council and were turned down?”

Nori shrugged. “Can't say for certain right now, but that seems to be the likeliest story. As I said, it would explain their dislike of you. Course, there are those in the mountains who just dislike you for no reason other than you're not Dain or because of what your father and grandfather did. As soon as I know more, I'll tell you.”

Thorin nodded, dismissing Nori. Nori nodded back and then quietly slipped out of the room. Once he was gone, Thorin turned towards Dwalin. “I want each Dwarf found immediately. I wish to interrogate them myself,” he told the guard. 

Dwalin nodded. “Balin gave me the list of names after he gave them to Nori. I’ve already sent out guards to find them and bring them to the jail. They have instructions to keep them all separated and not to interact with them in any way.” 

Thorin smiled gratefully and, satisfied there was nothing else he could do at that moment, he sat down at his desk. He picked up a stack of papers Balin had left for him, but before he could even look at the top sheet, Dwalin placed a tray of food in front of him. Thorin glowered up at Dwalin, but Dwalin merely grumbled, “Eat.” at him before he returned to leaning against the wall. Thorin shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, still glaring at Dwalin. Once the first spoonful was down, Thorin's stomach growled and he realized just how hungry he was and he started shoveling food into his mouth as quick as he could without choking himself.

Before he knew it, the tray was empty, his stomach was full, and everyone in the room was staring at him with small smiles and a few chuckles. Feeling sheepish, he pushed the tray away and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “That breakfast was delicious. Thank you, whoever made it, for bringing it, I didn't realize I was so hungry.”

Bofur beamed at the compliment. “Me brother ain't the only one in the family who can cook, ya' know. And begging your pardon, sir, you don't eat near as much as a grown Dwarf should, me brother's words.”

“I'll make sure to do better about that then, though it shouldn't be hard if the food is this excellent.” Thorin turned back to the papers, smiling. Now that his stomach was full, he could focus on his work. He was halfway through the stack when Balin returned, looking solemn and worried as he headed straight for Thorin's desk. One look at his face instantly had Thorin worried. He set his quill down and said, “Balin, what is wrong?”

“Tharkun is here, Thorin. He wishes to speak with you privately in the council room, right away.”

Thorin frowned. “Send him some food and drink to refresh himself and I will join him as soon as I have finished these papers.”

Balin shook his head determinedly. “Gandalf insists this is urgent, and that we must not wait.”

Feeling more confused, Thorin shrugged helplessly before he stood and faced the rest of the room. “Dori, would you accompany us?” he asked solemnly.

Dori looked up from his stitching in surprise. “Me, sir?”

Thorin nodded, growing impatient. “Yes, you. I have a feeling we will all be needing drinks to get through this. Besides, you and he seemed to get along well, that may be of use during this meeting.”

Everyone in the room froze and stared at him in shock, their mouths gaping open. Thorin might have found the sight amusing had he not been growing even more impatient to go meet the wizard. Finally, the silence stretched for too long and he snapped, “What?” at them all. Bofur was the first to close his mouth, visibly shaking himself before he puffed on his pipe again. Thorin glared at him, but Bofur merely took his time, taking several drags of his pipe before he put it out and set it on the mantel.

“Well, to be honest, Your Majesty, we're all just a little surprised to see you all grown up, asking for things instead of throwing around orders. It's about bleeding time, if you ask me!” Bofur explained cheerfully, grinning when Thorin glowered at him. Thorin turned to Balin for support, only to find his friend actually nodding, as if he agreed with Bofur.

Entirely fed up with the lot of them, Thorin snatched up Orcrist and strapped it around his waist, then turned on his heel and left the room, not bothering to see if Dwalin, Balin, and Dori were following him or not. As he walked, he thought about what Bofur had said. And he realized, his friend was right. Thinking back on the way he used to be, even before the gold madness had taken him, Thorin could see that he had been brutish and demanding. Bilbo would have, and actually had, called him bossy. And maybe Thorin actually was growing up, in a way, because he could admit to himself that he was a better Dwarf now than he had been before they reclaimed Erebor. But he supposed almost dying, and almost getting his friends and family killed, would do that to a Dwarf.

When he reached the council chamber doors, he felt much calmer. He nodded to the guards stationed on either side of the large double doors, receiving nods in return. Glancing over his shoulder, he wasn't surprised to see Dwalin, Balin, and Dori standing on either side of him. Swallowing heavily, Thorin ducked his head and was relieved when they all returned the gesture. Drawing himself up, Thorin faced the doors. He took a deep breath before he opened the doors. He was expecting to see Gandalf as he usually was, dirty, travel worn gray robes, his beard tangled and coarse, his signature hat and staff. What he saw had him gasping and rushing towards the wizard.

“Gandalf, what happened to you?” he asked, concerned. The wizard looked as if he had just come through a battle, and not necessarily a battle he won. His gray robes were tattered, ripped and torn and bloodstained. His beard and hair were coated with ash and blood, and looked like some of it had been cut off or torn out. Somehow, his hat had survived unscathed. Gandalf's face itself was pale and sweat stained, and his body was trembling with exhaustion.

Thorin grabbed Gandalf's arm and tried to steer him to a chair, forgetting in his haste that Gandalf wouldn't fit comfortably in the Dwarf sized chairs. Nevertheless, Gandalf sank into the chair gratefully. Dori immediately began flittering around Gandalf, commenting on the state of his robes and making plans to have them repaired, while also offering to fetch him a strong cup of tea and something to eat. Gandalf halfheartedly tried to wave him away, but was too exhausted to do much.

“Peace, Master Dori, peace. I am alright, just a little worse for wear. But I wouldn't say no to a glass of wine, if you have any to spare.”

“Dori, please go prepare him a guest room, one of the ones built for his size. Balin, make the announcement that Gandalf will be staying as a quest for an undetermined length of time. Dwalin, do the same with the guard, we don't want any accidents if one of them is startled by an unexpected person walking the halls.”

Despite knowing it was a ruse to get them to all leave the room, they each nodded and left the room to do as requested. Once they were alone, Thorin sat in another chair beside Gandalf. “Gandalf what happened?” he asked, wasting no more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I wrote the company right, particularly Dori. I'd like to think that after so much time spent together, they all became more comfortable and casual around each other, which made me think Dori wouldn't have any issues telling Thorin exactly what he thought. I remember most people tend to write him as stickler for things like propriety and tradition, so talking to Thorin in such a way might have been considered disrespectful by him (remember how he and others in the company acted when Thorin was gold mad in the movie?) but it didn't feel right writing him like that to me, in this situation. Leave a comment, tell me what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I shove a lot of info into one chapter and hope it doesn't confuse anyone! I had my girlfriend read this when I first wrote it and she had a couple questions afterwards, so I ended up adding her questions and my answers into Thorin and Gandalf's dialogue!

            Gandalf sighed and took his hat off. He set it and his staff on the stone table before he answered. “I have grave news, Thorin. Where is Bilbo? I must speak with him immediately.”

  
           “Bilbo left early this morning, with Gloin's caravan to Ered Luin, to return to the shire,” Thorin explained, confused, forgetting about his concerns over Gandalf. “You did not see the caravan leaving on your way here?”

            Gandalf gasped and leaned forwards, his eyes widening in fear. “He cannot return to the Shire!” he said urgently, so unlike his usual demeanor that Thorin actually jumped in his seat. He had seen Gandalf many things, typically frustrated or angry where Thorin was concerned, but he had never actually seen Gandalf afraid.

            “Gandalf, he is not staying. He is returning to handle his affairs with his relatives and his home and possessions, and then he will return here to Erebor.” To me, Thorin's mind unhelpfully added.

            Gandalf calmed somewhat, leaning back tiredly. “Thorin, listen to me. Bilbo must stay in Erebor. His life depends on it.”

            “Gandalf, enough riddles! Speak plainly, what danger is Bilbo in?” Thorin demanded.

            Gandalf closed his eyes and sighed. “Bilbo has the One Ring,” he whispered.

            Thorin jumped up from his chair, frantically shaking his head. “No, that is not possible. The One Ring was lost, centuries ago, never to be found again. It is no danger to anyone, you must be mistaken,” he said, desperately trying to deny Gandalf's words.

            “Thorin, you must believe me. Bilbo is a dear friend, I would not say these things if they were not true. Bilbo found the Ring, in the goblin tunnels. He took it from its previous keeper, a vile, twisted creature named Gollum. He does not know its significance, he thinks it merely a magic ring like any other that can turn him invisible. He has already used it many times.” Gandalf explained.

            Thorin slowly sank back into the chair, the shock and disbelief apparent on his face. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “It cannot be. Not, not Bilbo. Not my-” Thorin cut himself off before he said it, but it was still clear in his mind. His Hobbit. Unfortunately for him, Gandalf had caught what he started to say and he latched onto it like a leech, raising a bushy gray eyebrow knowingly.

            “Yours? He is yours now?” he asked, a hint of a smirk appearing on his face. Thorin turned his head to hide his face, flushing with embarrassment. Gandalf chuckled weakly. “So you care for him, after all. Good. That is good. He will need that, if he is to stay here. And he must, Thorin. He must stay here.”

            “How do you know this? How did you find out?” Thorin asked, clearing his throat.

            “After I saved your and your nephews' lives, I went back to Dol Goldur, to see if I could do anything about the evil that still lurks there. There, I found one of Sauron's followers, still clinging to life. He told me that Sauron would rise again, and that Sauron had felt the Ring come to life, at the same time you were all trapped in the Goblin tunnels. I believe that is likely the first time Bilbo ever put on the Ring, and he used it to escape.”

            Thorin huffed angrily. “That could be mere coincidence,” he said with false confidence.

            Gandalf straightened up in his chair, as much as he could straighten in a chair too small for him. “I do not believe in coincidences, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. And neither should you.”

            Chastised, Thorin dropped his head. “If he has the Ring, and has used it, why has Sauron not sent his minions after him?” he asked, changing the subject.

            “Sauron was severely weakened when the White Council rescued me from Dol Goldur. He can still feel the Ring when it is worn, but he cannot sense its position or who wears it now. I believe it will take many years for him to regain the strength he lost that night. But, I will not take chances with Bilbo's life again. Here, in Erebor, he will be safe. You have begun rebuilding and repairing the mountain. Already, the front gates are as strong as they once were. Here, he will have a fortress and an army surrounding him, not to mention a group of loyal friends who will defend him with their lives. No, I believe he will be safer here than anywhere else.”

            “But for how long?” Thorin asked.

            Gandalf sighed. “Several months. I will take the Ring to Mordor, and cast it into the fires of Mount Doom. Bilbo must be kept safe while I am on this journey. Should Sauron or any of his followers find Gollum, they will find out that Bilbo had the Ring. They may come for him then.”

            “But you said it will take years for Sauron to regain strength, why is Bilbo in danger if he is so weak right now?”

            “Because desperation can give one tremendous strength. If word gets back to Sauron, wherever his spirit is, that the Ring could possibly be destroyed, I fear what he could possibly be capable of then. And as the journey will take me several months, that gives him ample time to try something. I will not underestimate my enemy again, Thorin. I made that mistake before and it almost cost me my life. I will be taking the Ring by myself, traveling alone, and taking paths and roads less traveled, to keep this as secret as possible. I do not want word getting out to anyone of this.”

            Thorin snorted in disbelief. “Who have you already told?”

            Gandalf glared at Thorin but when Thorin easily matched it with his own glare, Gandalf sighed heavily. “Obviously, I told a trusted few. Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and King Thranduil. The Lady created a bag for the ring, a bag that has magic sewn into every stitch. It will prevent the Ring from attempting to poison my mind. Thorin, I advise you tell no one but your Company about this.”

            Thorin nodded his agreement, choosing to ignore his misgivings about Thranduil being one of the “trusted few”. “There is something you should know, Gandalf. Bilbo was planning to return to the Shire for good. He was not going to come back to Erebor,” Thorin admitted the truth softly, remembering how hearing those very words from Bilbo's mouth the previous night had affected him so.

            Gandalf sputtered, shocked. “Whatever for? He is obviously happy here, happier than he has been in the Shire since his parents passed, according to the few letters we have shared these past few months. Why would he want to return?”

            Thorin quickly told him about the harassment and insults Bilbo had been quietly putting up with, and how the threatening note had pushed him past what he could handle. He also told him that they had the names of the Dwarrow responsible and were already handling the situation. While he was listening, Gandalf's face slowly tightened into what Thorin recognized as his I'm-so-fed-up-with-Dwarves face. Reassuring him that they were handling it didn't seem to placate the wizard much, but it was all Thorin had to offer.

            At the end of it all, neither Thorin or Gandalf spoke. It was during that silence that there was a knock on the chamber doors, before Dori was slipping inside, expertly balancing a tray in one hand as he shut the doors behind him. He set the tray on the table and poured a glass of wine for Gandalf and a mug of ale for Thorin. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he sat down on Thorin's empty side and said, “I presumed by the silence that you were both finished discussing whatever secrets needed to be shared.”

            Gandalf chuckled before he took a sip of his wine. “Indeed, we are, Master Dori. And I would gladly welcome a place where I can eat, bathe, and sleep, and if you could find me something to wear until I can patch up my own clothing I would be forever in your debt.”

            Thorin sat without really seeing or listening as Dori started making plans for putting Gandalf up in one of the guest rooms that were sized for Tall folk. Thorin was too busy thinking about Bilbo, about trying to keep him safe and happy in Erebor. He thought of how much Bilbo struggled against having Thorin handle the Dwarrow who were harassing him. He wondered if Bilbo would also fight against them when Gandalf told him about the Ring. Thorin's thoughts were interrupted by Gandalf calling his name.

            “Yes, Gandalf?” Thorin replied before downing a big gulp of ale.

            “Tell me more about this situation with Bilbo being harassed. You said you have the names of the perpetrators and are gathering information on them so that they are punished for their crimes. But what are you going to do to solve the problem at its core? What will stop this from happening again?” Gandalf asked.

            Thorin frowned. “I . . . have not thought about that yet. I do not know what I can do. I have named him, _khazâd-bâhel_ , dwarf-friend, and made it clear that he is a dear friend to myself and the Company, as well as making it known everything he did to help us reclaim Erebor. What more could I do?”

            Gandalf thought for a minute, taking several more sips of his wine. On Thorin's other side, Dori sipped at his tea. Finally, when it became clear that Gandalf did not have an answer, Dori set his teacup back on the tray and said, “Well, seems to me that the problem isn't how do we keep it from happening. I think it is illogical to spend so much energy trying to prevent it. Some people just can't be reasoned with and will find any reason to hate. I think we should focus more on preparing Bilbo for when it happens again and protecting him as much as we can when it does.”

            Thorin nodded in agreement, but responded with, “That is the problem, according to Bilbo. He is worried that if he has to be protected from insults and the like, that it will make people respect him less because he is not protecting himself. 'Dwarrow value strength', is what he told me.”

            “Aye, he's got the right of it. That is why we must also help him become stronger and tougher, as well. But it won't happen overnight. It will be a slow process.”

            Thorin opened his mouth speak but closed it when the council chamber doors opened again, this time admitting Balin and Dwalin. Dwalin situated himself behind Thorin's chair, taking his usual place, while Balin sat on the other side of Thorin. Gandalf quickly and succinctly retold his story to Balin, Dwalin, and Dori. At the end of it, after their initial protests and denials over the very idea of Bilbo having the One Ring, Dori was serving himself more tea to calm himself, Balin was thinking hard, his eyebrows furrowed, and it was unexpectedly Dwalin who brought up an important point.

            “Ye know he ain't gonna go for that. Bilbo is already thinking about moving back to the Shire because of the harassment, if he gets back here and ye start making demands and telling 'im he 'as to live 'ere, he won't like that. Won't matter that it's for his own good, he don't take kindly to being told what to do like that. This is goin' to be a hell of a fight, between 'im and the whole cursed mountain. As if ye didnae 'ave enough to worry about already.”

            Gandalf frowned, looking between Dwalin and Thorin, who was glaring at Dwalin. “What does he mean, Thorin? What has been going on while I was away?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> khazâd-bâhel - dwarf-friend
> 
> A few more Thorin-centric chapters and then we'll get Bilbo for awhile, I promise! Also, please tell me if Dwalin's dialogue is hard to read, I had my girlfriend read it and she had no trouble with it but I will change it if it's needed!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin has an epiphany, Dwalin is clueless, Balin knows everything, and Gandalf is a hardcore Bagginshield shipper.

            Thorin shot Dwalin a very rude gesture before he reluctantly answered Gandalf. “There have been many rumors flying around, about my ability and capability to rule. Some on the council believe I should be replaced, though those these believers disagree on who should replace me.” As Thorin and Balin explained the situation with the council, going into detail about the concerns over the gold sickness, Gandalf's face slowly grew thunderous, the only sign that Gandalf was affected.

            When the two finally finished their tale, Gandalf huffed and started searching his pockets for something. Thorin vaguely wondered how his pockets were still able to hold anything, given the state of his robes, but Gandalf pulled out his pipe nonetheless. He dug around in another pocket and pulled out a bit of pipeweed and packed it into his pipe. With a quick, quiet word, he lit the pipe and puffed away at it furiously, his face scrunched and furrowed as he thought. The Dwarrow knew from experience it was better not to rush him, so they talked amongst themselves to wait him out. Finally, after several minutes, Gandalf took his pipe from his mouth and said, “Ah ha!”, as if he had just had a brilliant thought. The Dwarrow turned to him, slightly concerned, but relaxed when he smiled.

            “I believe I have a plan that would solve all of our problems,” he announced with enthusiasm. Thorin raised an eyebrow at him, silently prompting him to continue. Gandalf smirked and leaned back, obviously satisfied with himself. “Tell me, Balin, when was the last time there was a Consort Under the Mountain?”  
Balin frowned , perplexed by the question. “It has been several centuries, long ago enough that I cannot recall who it was. I will have to go through the library with Ori to find out.”

            “And what privileges and protections are afforded the Consort?”

            “A Consort is awarded the same privileges and protections as any other direct member of the royal line, with only the King himself being above the Consort.”

            Thorin interrupted the conversation then, slamming his hand down on the stone table. He recognized what Gandalf was leading up to, and when he glanced around him he saw that his friends were realizing it, too. “Get to your point, Gandalf.”

            Gandalf smirked again, clearly amused, and put his pipe away. “I think it would serve everyone involved if Bilbo were to become Consort.”

            It took several seconds for that to register in the Dwarrow's minds, but when it did the reactions were surprising. Dori and Balin nodded in agreement and Dwalin simply stared at the wizard in shock, while Thorin stood up, stumbling in his haste. “What?” he shouted, turning away from them all. He couldn't let them see his face.

            “Before you lose your temper completely, Thorin, let me explain. We have several problems, each one complicated on its own. Put together, finding a solution seems impossible. But, I believe this is the solution to everything.”

            Thorin spun around and pointed at Gandalf. “Speak plainly, damn you, and explain!”

            Gandalf stood up and straightened his robes, though it didn't do much good given the state of them. “Bilbo wishes to remain here for the rest of his days. I want Bilbo to stay here, if not permanently, at least for however long it will take me to destroy the Ring. Now, the only true problem with this is that Bilbo is being harassed, and does not feel he can stay because he cannot protect himself and cannot ask for help or protection because he fears it will make him appear weak, thus prompting more harassment. Obviously, you can train Bilbo how to fight and defend himself, which is advisable. But even that may not be enough. If Bilbo were to become Consort, we would be able to protect him without making him seem weak in the eyes of your people.”

            Thorin's jaw dropped. Helplessly, he looked back and forth between his friends and the wizard. “Dori? Dwalin?” When neither Dwarf responded, staring back at him silently, he turned to Balin, praying to Mahal that his friend would speak reason. “Balin?”

            Balin sighed and shook his head. “I agree with Gandalf, Thorin. Next to being king, being consort is the safest position in the mountain. Besides that, if you believe that it was Bilbo that brought you back from your madness before, keeping him around would be the most logical thing to do and it might just placate those who are calling for your abdication,” he said, ever the diplomat.

            Dumbfounded, Thorin sank into an empty chair. His friends all stood up and cautiously approached him. Feeling panicked and cornered, Thorin suddenly fled the room.

            When Dwalin tried to follow him, Balin grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Let him go, brother. He's finally realizing the truth and it's a tough pill to swallow.”

            Dwalin shook off his brother's arm roughly, turning to face him with a scowl. “Mahal's beard, Balin, what are you talking about? If Thorin doesn't want to have Bilbo as a consort, we can find another way!”

            Balin smiled sadly and patted Dwalin's arm. “Aye, brother, we can find another way. Now, let's sit down and have a drink while we wait for Thorin to return.”  
  


            This time, Thorin made sure to stick to less traveled paths so as not to be seen. Gandalf's words were spinning in his head, alongside his own jumbled thoughts and feelings. He needed a place to be alone, to think. He wasn't sure why, but he felt drawn to the battlements. He had avoided the battlements ever since that day, when he had almost . . . Thorin shook his head as the myriad of feelings that accompanied that memory flooded him. The emotions were so powerful he actually had to take a moment, leaning against the wall, before he could continue. When he finally made it to the battlements, thanking his Maker that he had not run into anyone along the way, he dropped to his knees and screamed.

            He screamed until his throat was hoarse and his lungs were burning for breath. When he couldn't scream anymore, he dropped his head until his chin was digging into his chest. He didn't know how long he sat there, just letting himself feel everything that he normally buried deep. The guilt. The defeat. The anger. The fear. He was king, he didn't have the luxury of dwelling on these feelings every day. The only time he ever let go of his role as king, the only time he was ever just Thorin, just a Dwarf and a blacksmith, was when he was with Bilbo. Bilbo, who might never return to Erebor. Thorin raised his head as realization slammed into him.

            Bilbo was his one. He loved him. Thorin touched his face and was shocked when his fingers came away wet. He wasn't sure what caused the tears, thinking about Bilbo never returning or realizing that he loved the Hobbit. He hastily wiped his face with his hands and cursed himself for a fool.

            “Now, I would call you a great many things, Thorin Oakenshield, but I wouldn't go as far as that,” a familiar voice said behind him.

            Thorin stood up quickly, stumbling over his feet in his haste to face the wizard. “Gandalf, I wished to be alone.”

            Gandalf leaned on his staff and smiled sadly. “Yes, I know. But despite all our differences I do consider you a friend, Thorin. And I would not leave you to deal with this on your own.”

            Thorin glared up at the wizard. “I am dealing with this, though I do not know what you are referring to, just fine on my own. I thank you for your concern. Now, leave me.” Only half expecting Gandalf to listen, he turned his back on him.

            “You love him, don't you?”

            “Don't be daft, you _gamil lalkhûn_ ,” Thorin instantly denied. “Master Baggins is merely my friend, and I do not like the idea of forcing him into a marriage, such as you are all suggesting. He deserves to marry someone he loves.”

            Gandalf huffed indignantly. “Have you ever asked him how he feels about that?”

            “Of course I haven't. The topic has never come up.”

            “Well, I have. And I will have you know, that Bilbo has no allusions or dreams about marriage. He has no sweetheart back in the Shire. In truth, he has resigned himself to forever being a bachelor.”

            Thorin frowned and asked, “He told you that?”

            “Yes, in the letters we have been exchanging since the battle.”

            Thorin licked his lips. He didn’t want to let himself hope, didn’t want to believe the wizard’s words. He did not deserve such happiness. “Why were you even discussing the subject of marriage?” Thorin asked, his voice cold and hard.

            If Gandalf noticed the change in his voice, he ignored it. “I brought it up, first. Bilbo had mentioned the possibility of a trade treaty between Erebor, through its colony Ered Luin, and the Shire. Now, a great many Dwarrow will be returning to Erebor now that it’s been reclaimed, but there will be those who do not wish to relocate. It would be to your advantage to turn Ered Luin into the thriving colony it could be. Ered Luin needs food desperately from what I understand, which we both know the Shire has plenty of and I’m sure Ered Luin could set up trade with the Hobbits, food for your crafts and protection. Erebor is a long way from the Shire, yes, but there are goods that can survive the journey here to Erebor that would be wanted here, such as pipeweed and seeds.” Gandalf paused and shook his head. “Of course, he brought up the good point that most Hobbits in the Shire are suspicious of outsiders and want nothing to do with the rest of the world, which is true for most of them except the Tooks and perhaps the Brandybucks, maybe a few other families. So, I suggested that perhaps an arranged, political marriage would be the best route to take. As you and he are such close friends, I see no reason you two would not be comfortable and content in such an arrangement.”

            Thorin's head spun as he tried to understand what Gandalf had just said. “You have already asked Bilbo if he would be willing to marry me?” he asked. His legs grew weak, started to shake and threatened to collapse under him. He abruptly dropped back down onto his knees. “Why?” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin does seem like the type of Dwarf to be emotionally constipated, especially when feelings like love are involved, but I wasn't sure how he would react when it all came crashing down on him. I tried a few different options, him punching a wall, picking a fight, etc., but finally screaming it out felt right. Also, it's always bothered me thinking that Ered Luin was basically abandoned after Erebor was reclaimed, so I threw that in there for my own pleasure. 
> 
> gamil lalkhûn=old fool  
> Khuzdul credit to the Dwarrow Scholar


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late posting, but I'm running behind on everything I'm working on so, sorry!

            Gandalf squatted down next to him and set his staff on the ground. He gently placed his hand on Thorin's shoulder. “Because you both need each other. And I believe that a marriage between you two would benefit not only you two, but everyone else as well.”

            “So, we are to be pawns for more of your cryptic games, wizard?” Thorin asked angrily. 

            “Of course not, Thorin. You are both my friends, Bilbo especially. I wish only to see you both happy, but I must also do what I think is right for the many. And in this case, I strongly believe that this is the right thing to do.” Gandalf squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, but it only made Thorin angrier. He jerked away from Gandalf and climbed back up on his feet.

            “What did he have to say about this marriage business?”

            “He did not outright reject the idea, but he did not accept it enthusiastically.”

            Thorin squashed the ember of hope that started to burn in his chest at those words. He refused to get his hopes up. “You will not forget about this foolish idea, will you?”

            Gandalf chuckled and patted Thorin's shoulder. “You know me better than that, Thorin. I am nothing if not tenacious. And I think this is a brilliant idea, the only foolish parts of it are certain people involved.”

            Thorin let the implied insult fly over his head. “Do I get any say in this? Does Bilbo?”

            “Of course, you both do. I do not want to force either of you into a marriage that will make you unhappy. I merely think you are a good match, politically. Frankly, he is a much better diplomat and a keen businessman. He has been in charge of his family holdings and business ever since his parents passed, while also dealing with greedy relatives and gossiping Hobbits. I believe he could actually serve Erebor well as Consort.”

            Thorin swallowed. “Aye, he would.” Agreeing with Gandalf still made him want to swallow hot coals, but he could not disagree with the wizard this time. “Bilbo would serve us all well, but he has already done so much for us. I could not ask him to do more for us.”

            Gandalf huffed and picked up his staff. “I do not think you have any choice in this matter, Thorin. Marrying Bilbo would solve everything.” Apparently done with the conversation, he whacked Thorin's back with the end of his staff. “Get up, you can't laze about all day, after all.”

           Thorin hastily stood up to avoid being hit again, cursing Gandalf under his breath. Gandalf chuckled and stepped aside to allow Thorin to pass. Together, they moved through the mountain back to the council room. Thorin was not all that surprised to see that the rest of the Company had joined Balin, Dwalin, and Dori while he and Gandalf were gone. He took a seat at the head of the table, where he usually sat during council meetings, and his nephews instantly crowded him, each speaking too fast for him to catch any words. Chuckling, Thorin held up his hands. “ _Nadnîth_ , peace, please!”

            Both boys stopped talking and looked at each other before they simultaneously asked, “Are you going to marry Bilbo?”

            Taken aback, Thorin looked at Balin, Dwalin, and Dori, who all shrugged in apology. He looked back up at his nephews excited, expectant faces and found he couldn't deny it. Not to them. “I am considering entering into an arrangement with Master Baggins that will benefit Erebor, Ered Luin, the Shire, and everyone in them, yes,” he said as diplomatically as he could.

            The boys whooped with glee and started chattering at each other above Thorin's head.

            “Yes! Now Bilbo will really be our uncle!”

            “And he'll get to live here forever!”

            “And he'll get to cook for us, too!”

            “And his stories!”

            “This is gonna be so great!”

            Then they were running out of the council room. Thorin watched them go with a sense of dread. Putting that aside for later, Thorin looked around the table at his friends. “Well, since it seems you all are already aware of the situation, what say you?” he asked, though he was sure he already knew what they would say. And as he expected, Bofur was the first one to speak up.

            “I think it's a brilliant idea, Your Kingship!” he said cheerfully.

            “Of course you do, Bofur.”

            Ori looked up from the scroll he was writing on and said, “I, too, think it's a good idea, sir. Bilbo has been most helpful in many ways since the we reclaimed Erebor. As Consort, he would have the full protection of the Royal Guard as well as be in a position to continue helping the mountain with his various abilities and strengths.”

            “Aye, Thorin, I think we will all agree with Ori and Bofur here. It's a good move, all around. Hell, this will even fend off those trying to marry off their daughters or sons to ya'. There are already plans being made, by various nobles, to do just that. Ye' could save us all if you go ahead and get married. We’ve got enough trouble coming dealing with the ones who’re after Bilbo,” Nori put in, picking at his fingernails with a small dagger. The rest of the room resounded with various agreements and Thorin felt like the matter had just been settled without him. That feeling was intensified when Balin pulled out several pieces of parchment and passed them to him.

            “I began writing up a draft of the contract for the marriage. As it will be a political marriage, you do not have to go through a courtship, so for the sake of time-”

            “No,” Thorin cut him off. “I will not marry Bil- Master Baggins without properly courting him first. Political marriage or not. He deserves better than that.”

            Balin smiled and nodded in understanding. “Very well. I would suggest you read up on Hobbit courtship, so that you may take Master Baggins' customs into consideration.”

            Thorin nodded in agreement. “Ori, are there any books or records you could provide me on Hobbit culture?” he asked, turning back to the young Dwarf.

            Ori paused from his writing and nodded confidently. “Yes, Bilbo and I have had many discussions regarding his culture. He has been very helpful answering all my questions so that I may put it all into book form.”

            Thorin smiled and thanked the scribe and Ori blushed before ducking his head back down to his scroll. He turned back to the rest of the Company and Gandalf. “Now that that is settled for the moment, I will ride out to catch the caravan and bring Bilbo back. He is not safe outside of the mountain and unfortunately, his business in the Shire will have to be done through ravens and letters.” Dori, could you show Gandalf to the guest rooms he will be using during his stay?”

            “Actually, I think it would be best if I were to ride out and catch this caravan and bring Bilbo back. I think it best that I talk to him and explain things to him, before he is bombarded by you all. It will be a lot for him to take in, after all.”

            Thorin grimaced. He didn’t like having to wait to see Bilbo again, but couldn’t deny the logic in that plan. Nor could he deny how he hated the thought of being separated from Bilbo any longer than he had to be. But he told himself to simply be happy he was that he wouldn’t have to be separated from Bilbo for several months. It would be a small price to pay, letting Gandalf bring Bilbo back and take the time to fill the Hobbit in. He nodded his agreement. “Do you need another horse or is the one you rode in on alright?”

            Gandalf harrumphed before he said, “I didn’t ride here, Thorin, that’s why I wasn’t aware of the caravan leaving. I called in a favor.” Thorin knew that meant he had called on the Eagles again. “Unfortunately, my friend left as soon as he dropped me off. So yes, I would need a horse to catch them.”

            “Dori can show you to the stables. We have a few horses that are fast. They should serve you.”

            Gandalf thanked him and then the silver-haired dwarf nodded and promptly led Gandalf from the room. After that, the Company split up, each Dwarf leaving to return to their jobs or positions. Finally, only Dwalin and Thorin were alone in council room. Dwalin sighed and dropped into the chair next to Thorin. He ran his hand over his bald head and it hit Thorin then just how tired his friend was. It was so easy to forget that his friend, who was always as strong and immovable as the mountain itself, could actually be tired. Suddenly concerned, Thorin said, “Dwalin, you haven't appointed a deputy yet, have you?”

            Dwalin shook his head and poured himself a mug of ale. He downed most of the mug in one go before he answered. “Haven't been looking, to be honest. Been too busy rebuilding the royal guard and making plans to rebuild our army and defenses.”

            “You shouldn't be doing all that by yourself, Dwalin.”

            Dwalin shrugged. “Don't worry 'bout me, Thorin. Your problems are bigger than mine. You're not seriously considering this marriage business, are ye'?”

            Thorin sighed. He snatched Dwalin's mug from his hands and gulped the rest of it down. He set the mug down and wiped his mouth, then said, “I don't feel like I have any choice. If all the people I trust think I should do it, then I would be a fool not to, wouldn't you say?”

             “Ach! Maybe so, but this is a serious business, Thorin! Marriage! Nothing against Bilbo, Mahal knows I like the Hobbit as much as you do, but being tied to him for the rest of your life? Even after he dies, which you know will happen before you die because Hobbits don't live as long as we do! And do you really want to throw away your chance at finding your one?”

            Thorin snorted humorlessly, which only set Dwalin off on an extensive, descriptive cursing streak. Thorin listened to it for a minute and then held up his hand. “Peace, Dwalin, peace! No need to get so worked up.”

            Dwalin glared at Thorin. “I don't understand why you aren't angry about this!”

            Thorin sighed and said, “I was angry, before. That's why I ran out like I did.” which only sent Dwalin off on another rant.

            “And that was one of the more stupid things you have done, ya' idiot! Running off by yourself, no guard, and not telling anyone where you were going! The only reason I didn't run after ya' was because Balin told me not to, and Gandalf went after you, swearing that he knew where ye' were going and could find ya'. But don't you ever do that again, or I'll-”

            “Bilbo is my one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to Bilbo's chapters! 
> 
> Nadnîth-boys


	10. FINALLY!! A chapter update!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my language, but FUCKING FINALLY!! A CHAPTER UPDATE!!!  
> Okay, so in case no one read the summary I had previously posted as "Chapter ten", long story short, through several issues with money, family, and priorities, I have not been able to work on this fic, nor could I post what I did have done after chapter nine. But, I'm finally in a better position and I can finally continue on with this fic, and my others!  
> I will not promise a consistent update schedule, as I am now focusing on writing a book that I hope to publish before the year is over, so that is my main focus as are other things in my life. But I will not ever abandon this fic and if you all can just be patient with me, which you all have been and its been so appreciated, this fic will be finished.

            The admission shocked both of them. Thorin gasped and stared wide-eyed at Dwalin, who had frozen with his mouth open in his own shock. After two tense minutes of staring at each other, Dwalin finally managed to close his mouth, swallow, and then speak. “Bilbo?” Thorin mutely nodded, unable to find his voice. Dwalin cursed, then he hastily refilled the mug, spilling ale all over the table. He threw his head back and drained the whole mug, barely pausing to breathe in between swallows. Then he slammed the mug back onto the table and jumped out of his chair, cursing again.

            “So that’s what my brother was on about! I oughtta burn his beard for keeping something like this from me,” Dwalin said as he clenched his fists. He started pacing, cursing Balin in Khuzdul with every step.

            Thorin’s shock finally dissipated. “Balin knows?” he sputtered. Dwalin nodded distractedly, still pacing. Thorin sagged in his chair, his mind whirling. “Balin knows,” he repeated softly. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Suddenly, Dwalin stopped pacing. He cursed again and unexpectedly chuckled humorlessly. Thorin dropped his hands and glared up at his friend. “This is not funny, Dwalin!”

            Still chuckling, Dwalin dropped back into the chair and leaned forwards with his elbows on the table. “Peace, Thorin, I’m laughing at myself for not seeing it sooner. Looking back on it now, it’s so bloody obvious.”

            Thorin scowled at his friend. “Who else knows?”

            Dwalin shrugged. “Balin’s the smartest out of all of us, so I’m not surprised that he could see it. No one else knows you better than me and ‘im, not even the boys.”

            “So why didn’t you see it then? Why didn’t I see it before now?”

            “You probably didn’t see it for the same reason I didn’t see it, Thorin. We’ve both been too damn busy, what with the journey and the battle, now the restoration and so many of our kin returning home. Love isn’t something we’ve had time for,” Dwalin explained. Then he sighed and shook his head.

            Something in his friend’s voice made Thorin frown. “Dwalin, you sound as if you have regrets. Did you . . . have you found your One?” he asked incredulously.

            “Ach, no. But I do worry. What if I spent so much time focused on you, and Dis and the boys, in Ered Luin and then working towards reclaiming Erebor that I missed my chance?” Dwalin shook his head.

            Thorin looked away, guilt making it hard to look at his friend. “You’re right. You’ve always been there for us, for me especially. Maybe you should take a break, take some time for yourself,” he suggested, mentally preparing himself for another outburst. But to his surprise, Dwalin merely grunted and refilled his mug.

            “Maybe you’re right, _nadad_. Maybe you’re right.” Thorin’s eyebrows rose, the only sign of his shock. While he attempted to recover, Dwalin chugged another mugfull of ale and then wiped his mouth dry, ignoring the ale that had dripped into his beard. He noticed Thorin’s expression and shook his head. “It’s amazing what things like quests and near-death experiences can do to ya’. I’m feeling my age, Thorin.”

            Thorin scoffed. “You’re only 169, Dwalin. You’re not even old yet.”

            “Aye, neither are you, yet you’re already going grey,” Dwalin retorted with a glare. “That damned quest has aged me by a few decades at least.”

            Thorin nodded. “Aye, it aged me, too.”

            Dwalin chuckled. “You were going grey before the quest, ya’ idiot.”

            “Well, being king will do that to you,” Thorin said. Then he dropped his head into his hands, his hair falling around him like a curtain.

            Dwalin kicked Thorin’s leg under the table. “Enough of this maudlin’ now. Since you ain’t got council today, what say you put off all that paperwork and we go down to the training yards for a good fight. We haven’t trained together in months and I fear ya’ may be getting rusty, sitting in that throne all day.”

            Thorin lifted his head and grinned. “That sounds like a fine idea,” he said and he stood up quickly. He good-naturedly shoved Dwalin as he passed him on his way to the council door, to which Dwalin responded by shoving him forwards right as Thorin opened the doors. Thorin stumbled through the doorway, cursing in Khuzdul under his breath. He righted himself and regained his composure, ignoring Dwalin’s quiet chuckles behind him. He cleared his throat and straightened his surcoat before he walked away.

            The guards bowed their heads respectfully at their king and captain exited the council chambers, ignoring Thorin’s stumble. Dwalin stopped chuckling and eyed them intensely, one after the other. The guards had wisely kept their faces serene and expressionless, not wanting to earn the ire of Thorin or Dwalin. Dwalin nodded approvingly after studying them each for several seconds. Then, he turned and followed after Thorin. Once they were out of sight, the guards slumped and sighed in relief. Then they looked at each other and shared a small smile and a quiet laugh before they straightened and composed themselves again.

            Thorin deliberately took the long way through the mountain to get to his rooms, making sure to pass through the market and other common areas. He made it a point, if not every day at last every other day, to spend time amongst his people. It was a biproduct leftover from the years spent living in the Blue Mountains, where he lived and worked with all sorts of Dwarrow. He had developed a closeness to his people that he did not want to lose living in Erebor. It had taken many weeks of arguing with both Dwalin and Nori, who were more worried about possible assassination attempts, before Thorin had simply decided one day to visit the market. He had known they would follow him so he hadn’t bothered to try to sneak away. He had simply gone one day, knowing Dwalin would follow him. Since then, Dwalin had stopped arguing and had simply put more precautions in place to guarantee his safety.

            Thorin greeted and nodded to every Dwarf he came across as he made his way through the maze of stalls. While Thorin had not doubted that word of his early morning adventure would get around everywhere, he still blushed and stammered whenever he received a wink or saucy comment from those who were familiar with him. Besides that, the market was not any different this day from any other, and he found himself relaxing in the familiarity of it.

            He finally came across Bombur’s stall, which was normally surrounded by Dwarrow of all ages and classes. It was one of the bigger stalls, as Bombur alone needed extra space to sell his sweets and baked goods. He had become quite popular since the market had been reopened, thanks in part to being appointed the royal chef. Many Dwarrow stopped by the first time simply because he was the royal chef, wanting tales of the quest or asking questions about the Company. They tended to return for the food after that. Bofur spent some days at his brother’s stall selling toys and figures for the Dwarflings and Dwarrow who were interested in such, when he was not working in the mines.

            Thorin could see a few Dwarflings, none more than thirty years old, standing in front of the stall, obviously sad because it was closed. Each had a small coin purse clutched in a dirty fist and one of them was crying silently. Thorin frowned and moved over to them. The Dwarflings all gasped when Thorin suddenly appeared next to them, Dwalin his ever-present shadow standing at his shoulder. They stared up at them both, their mouths gaping open comically. Thorin stifled a laugh and bent down on one knee, putting a friendly smile on his face. The biggest Dwarfling put himself in front of the other two without hesitation, standing protectively. Thorin openly chuckled this time, which surprised the Dwarflings.

            “Hello, young ones. Do you know who I am?” he asked.

            They all nodded, but it was the smallest one who wiped her eyes and spoke up. “You’re the king.”

            This time Dwalin laughed with Thorin, which surprised the Dwarflings even more. Thorin nodded. “Aye, I am. Thorin, son of Thrain, at your service,” Thorin said seriously, bowing his head. While the children were still awestruck, he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out three gold coins. He handed one to each child and said, “Bombur will be gone for a long time, I’m afraid, little ones. How about you take these coins and go to the royal kitchens. Tell the cooks there that I said you can have one treat, each and every day, until Bombur returns. Aye?”

            The children stared at the coins in their hands, their eyes wide. They looked up at Thorin and nodded their heads enthusiastically. Then, they turned and sprinted off into the crowd. Thorin and Dwalin shared a laugh and continued on their way. There were no more interruptions and in just a short time they were back in Thorin’s rooms. Dwalin watched Thorin enter his rooms before he headed for his own rooms to change. Thorin wasted no time in changing into plain clothes, a grey workshirt, rough cotton brown pants, and worn and weathered boots. Perfect for training. He strapped _Orcrist_ back on and hurried back out to the hallway to meet Dwalin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this is where my other fic "The Little Ones" came from. I wound up creating the three orphans and then started giving them too much story for this fic, so they ended up with their own fic :)

**Author's Note:**

> Âzyungel - love of loves  
> Credit for all Khuzdul to the Dwarven Scholar.


End file.
